


that wasn't cool.

by murg



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Kinda, Paranoia, Post-Pacifist Route, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings, ambiguous soulless pacifist ending or not, sans doesn't remember the timelines, sans gets dunked on by ptsd, you decide dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murg/pseuds/murg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>everyone is so grateful to frisk for bringing them to the surface.<br/>it’s different for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that wasn't cool.

papyrus is actually pretty good at driving. of course he is, you think, he’s good at everything. he’s the coolest. undyne’s surprised, though. she shouldn't be. she’s terrible at driving. you can still smell burnt rubber after taking an ill-advised ride with her to the drug store last thursday. she needed to grab something for alphys.

alphys is guilty about something. you know what it is, but you won’t think about it. you’re very good at compartmentalizing. you’re a fine natural. papyrus is prattling on about mettaton doing some talkshow interview. he liked mettaton better as a calculator. papyrus has good taste. you can only think of papyrus so fondly, because you have seen how sweet he is. he’s something precious, rare. super cool and really awesome.

you could tell papyrus something. you could tell him you love him, that you love him more than anything in this disgusting, dead world, that you’d die for him over and over and over because he is your brother and he would have done the same for you. there is a debt you must pay but you can’t and it frustrates you. he really is the coolest brother.

you don’t know why you feel this way. you’re getting sentimental. that isn’t cool. that’s why papyrus is so much cooler than you. you do such uncool things all the time, if you ever bother to do anything. coolness takes so much effort. compartmentalization of the good stuff, too. you’re not making sense. let’s get to the point.

“I think we should pick something up for Frisk,” papyrus tells you, rolling to a stop at a light.

“pick up what,” you say. “why.”

“Just a thank-you,” papyrus says and his tone is off. something pent up. people shouldn’t pent things up, especially not papyrus. papyrus is so cool because he lets it all hang out. he’s so cool. your brother. you’d give up for him. your brother.

“for what,” you say.

“For this,” papyrus says, his voice less strained, more normal, more better. “Frisk is really great. They’re my friend.”

everyone is so grateful to frisk for bringing them to the surface.

it’s different for you. it’s different for you, and you don’t know why.

you feel like everyone’s in on some big secret you don’t understand. you feel like whatever. it doesn’t matter. not really. papyrus is smiling, and that means there’s a reason to smile. you just don’t know what it is. the reason doesn’t matter. you should smile. papyrus is so cool. you love papyrus. he’s the coolest.

“you should make them some food,” you say. “they like that.”

“I think I will!” papyrus says. “My food is delectable. Toriel loves it!”

“everyone does, dude,” you say. “you’re the best.”

“I know,” papyrus says. “That was a good idea, Sans. I’ll definitely do that.”

“cool,” you say. papyrus has gotten so good at making spaghetti that’s it’s totally edible, now. how cool is that. way too cool, that’s how.

“Sans,” papyrus says, voice wrong again. you’d tense if you had enough energy. you’re too lazy to tense. what’s the point. “You know I’m your brother.”

“uh huh,” you say. “best big bro in the world.”

“Of course,” papyrus says. “That’s not debated. And because of that, I... I’m concerned?”

“bout what.”

“You,” papyrus says. he swings his arm out, but there’s not enough space in the car, so he knocks his hand against the roof.

you stare out the window. “don’t worry about me, bro.”

“I always worry about you!” papyrus says. “You’re even lazier than normal!”

“yeah,” you say.

“Do you not like the surface?”

“it’s fine,” you say. “i dunno, man. you got better things to do.”

“Than worry about you?”

“yeah.”

“No, I don’t,” papyrus says and his tone is very heavy, very painful and sincere, his face contorted and you hate that it is contorted in such a painful manner, you want it to go away, it makes you think whispers of awful things.

you look away, feeling shameful and pitiful. he really does have better things to do than worry about you.

he’s too cool for you.

-

you get to toriel’s at half past seven. she’s happy to see you. gives you both hugs, one two, and ushers you in. papyrus laughs his way indoors, loud and confident and sweet and sure. he’s a good skeleton, as good as they come. frisk is in the kitchen, doing homework. you wave at them and make your way to the living room, where the three of you sit and talk about the weather and toriel’s class and how alphys is feeling.

“Undyne’s very upset over it,” toriel says. “But I told her, it’s really just a fever. She’s always thinking it’s the end of the world, though.” toriel’s tone is wrong, just like papyrus’s tone was wrong earlier, and it grates on you. this is the happy ending. she’s thinking about bad times in the past. she should stop doing that.

no one wants to have a bad time, least of all you. “papyrus wants to make frisk something,” you say, to get her to shut her stupid thoughts up.

“Something edible!” papyrus declares.

“Oh, I’m sure we can cook up something,” toriel says.

cook. heh. good one. kinda.

“Why don’t you go ask frisk what they’d like, Papyrus?” toriel says.

“Of course!” papyrus says, leaping off of the couch and making his way to the kitchen. “Frisk! It is I, Papyrus, here to make you a delicious treat!”

toriel wears a gentle smile. she’s very sweet, like papyrus. you’d die if something awful happened to her. she wouldn’t think you’re stupid if you told her something wasn’t okay. if something weren’t okay, that is. but everything, such as it is, is pretty chill. you would really die if something awful happened to her. she isn’t safe in this house.

this house is dusty.

“Sans,” she says gentle gentle smile gentle.

“what,” you say.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“you too, huh.”

she cocks her head, smiling smiling stop smiling like nothing’s wrong can we just admit it, something is _off_ here? no. you’re overreacting. nothing is off. nothing is anything. nothing is just nothing. that’s logic. you know logic. you get that stuff. you gotta pull yourself together. nothing is funny because nothing is nothing.

“i’m fine, toriel.” you fiddle with the remote, turning on the television.

“You aren’t happy,” she says, voice wavering. she’s still smiling. like she’s trying not to spook a horse. you feel pathetic and disgusting. she has better things to do. you aren’t delicate. you aren’t going to break. that’s mothers for you, though.

“i’m fine, toriel.” you turn up the sound.

“Sans,” she says.

“what,” you say.

“You know, you can tell me anything.”

“uh huh.”

“Sans.”

“what.”

she sighs. you can’t look at her. you can’t see her face contorted too. you feel despicable. you want to disappear. you want to get this over with. get what over with. nothing lasts. that’s what. you aren’t sure what that nothing is, though. besides nothing.

“I care about you, Sans. We all do, okay?”

“thanks.”

toriel says nothing. you say nothing. nothing. you can hear papyrus in the kitchen, babbling to frisk. your brother is so cool. he knows how to keep cool. he knows how to be happy. you wish you were like your brother. you wish you could spend all your time with your brother. you wish he didn’t want to come to this house so often.

“I’ll help you, Papyrus, just a second,” toriel calls. she gets out of her rocking chair. she goes into the kitchen with papyrus.

you look at the television and see nothing. you feel dead. very plain. uninterested. you wish you were home with your brother. your brother is the best. he’s so cool. he knows how to make everything feel better. you hate this house. it fills your bones with evil thoughts. you won’t think them. that’s super not cool. evil thoughts are really lame. you will never forgive alphys, never in a million years. where'd that come from. nowhere, that's where. and nothing comes from nowhere. you just feel nervous, here. that's all. you feel like something bad’s here, some bad-spirited ghoul lurking around the corner. it’d be sweet if it left. but it won’t. which is not cool at all.

it’s breathing down your neck. you are ready to fight. you are ready to die.

frisk clamors onto the couch, the cushions dipping as they sit beside you. they make your eyes itch. your fingers twitch. you think of the things you could do to frisk. stab them right through the heart and kill them without a sound. that’s a stupid thought. you don’t know why you think that. papyrus wouldn’t think that. not cool. you wish you were cool, like papyrus.

“hey frisk,” you say. frisk smiles. you don’t like frisk’s smile. it’s gentle and your brain whispers that it’s fake.

“i suppose,” you say, “you did a good job. you didn’t kill anyone.”

this house is so so dusty.

frisk smiles. pride? you can’t say. maybe you’re projecting. you think they feel pride. you think that’s terribly rude. not killing someone isn’t some fucking achievement. that’s not something someone should get a pat on the head for. it’s total bullshit.

you wish you could feel good about frisk. you can’t. seeing frisk fills your nostrils with death and decay, a warning from a million awkward impulses that feel like bygone instincts, like aching wisdom teeth clamoring for action. kill them. snap their neck. fuck promises do it.

gross disturbing shit.

very not cool. papyrus wouldn’t think those things.

kids like you, though. kids like you, frisk.

you look at the television. mettaton is on. papyrus only really watches mettaton. and some baby anime which is the only cool one out there. it’s for cool babies. that’s what papyrus says. he’s right. he knows cool.

you think about ripping frisk’s heart right out of their disgusting little ribcage and ending the inevitable danger. what danger, man. why do you always wanna run when frisk is just sitting there.

frisk touches your knee, leaning in to stab you under your clavicle. you pin them to the couch, fucking dirty killer, fucking disgusting worm going to tear out their fucking bloated tongue that filthy insult to monsterkind fucking killer fucking reach your fingers into their throat and burst their gullet stop them from doing it undyne always said never trust a human didn’t she you’re going to save them before anything can

oh.

you sit up, staring at frisk’s blue face. frisk is not crying. frisk is not upset. frisk sits up. frisk smiles at you, a smile that says it’s okay. you hate frisk and you don’t know why, you just do. you hate frisk so much. you wish you didn’t. papyrus loves frisk. you wish you loved frisk. you lost something and you can’t find it, frisk stole it and you don’t know what it is, you may have never had it, but that’s because frisk took it. _what did frisk do to you._ papyrus loves frisk. you wish you loved frisk. you hate frisk.

“i’m sorry,” you say, feeling a burning in your eye sockets. “that was super...uncool of me.”

yeah. really uncool.

frisk just rubs their palms along your cheeks. their fingers come back wet.

so not cool.

 

 

 


End file.
